Oh my heart aches, it cracks open, and open, and open.  It's joyous sorrow I feel, and it's slippery to contain.  I know I'm making inroads against unconscious behavior, it's just so difficult sometimes, this becoming.  I feel my organs rearranging, though there's resistance there's nothing to fight against, preparing for flight.

Monk-a-doodle has been experiencing illness past few days, still not quite back yet, and Baby R has just been so fussy today.  I've so much work to do and not enough time, and I keep bullishly stepping in my own way creating environmental stress where there needn't be, i.e. tiring myself with less sleep, not eating my best or at all, too much sugar, avoiding yoga and meditation, sitting in overwhelm instead of moving that small inch that's a cinch.

Watching snow fall, wishing I could go out in it and be completely alone for a undetermined time.

And I read this and this.  There's so much becoming all around when one looks for it, we're on an upswing I'm positive.

It's a Day, or not even, it's only A Morning.

I'm feeling nervous about the decision to put The Second born into a 2-day all day program at the Waldorf Charter School.  Probably because today we had an epic morning.

It began with angry elder sister, pick-pick-picking on little sister, while I sang loudly my operatic "Be Kind or Be quiet!" aria.  Then about 4 minutes of timed bickering (probably longer, but once they heard the "$1 a minute!" jingle I improvised, it got quieter). I'm holding the $4 ($1 or 1 household contribution per minute bickering fee) until they get contributions done.

It's a fairly cold, snowy morning, diamond dust in the air, and champagne powder on my truck, so we're already late. But I'm surrendering to the flow of the morning, 'cause I don't wanna make the crazed rush only to be stuck in traffic.

Everyone fed, and getting ready to leave, the Middle One begins her lament about some random item that was or was not seen, or worn, or toted.  Shortly prior to this, she, in the same breath, shared about what she likes at school and then proceeded to whine "puwheease take me out of dis school, momma".

I kept breathing, kept moving forward. Of course, this new development of crazy from her little sister budged Miss Monkey to swing back into sweet-and-helpful mode.

The Second Born proceeds to scream in her trademark screech about how her legs are cold (she chose to wear a long skirt with long socks), but when offered her coat or pants, she screeches again in response.  Her tragedy is most definitely waking neighbors.

We've embarked the vehicle, finally, when I feel I simply cannot drive with her screeching behind me.  I pull over into the empty, snow covered, parking lot of the park directly across the street.  I remove her from the vehicle, lovingly, firmly inform her that I cannot drive safely with her screaming and caterwauling behind me, help her with her coat and hat, "Scream out here all you want. You are welcome back in my car when you're done making that noise."

I keep breathing and recall yesterday when it was time for baby to nurse and rest, I resorted to locking myself in our bedroom to avoid a more serious conflict with her.  It had been a busy morning, back from the gym she had launched, unprompted, into a caterwauling lament about how she wasn't tired and wasn't hungry.  There's a pattern here, and I'm the common thread. Remove myself and alter the pattern, though maybe not as compassionate as I intend (yet), it's all I can muster sometimes.

Back in the snow, 2 minutes or less outside, some impressive lungfuls of air from her, and she calms. Asking for a hug, I'm happy to comply, and then she's eventually back in her seat and we're on our way.

But that's not all...

upon arrival at school, there's more tragedy, most likely trickle down from dramas earlier in the morning. Then hugs, and I'm off, but only to contend with the baby boy hollering fiercely all the way home.

I'm off to crock something for dinner, fold masses of laundry, and maybe get a 1/2 hour or so to sit atop my bike-on-trainer and lift something other than baby weight.

Happy day!

workin' through stress

It's not you, it's me

Last night, beginning SOMAS 601 Class (again), I got the "Surrender" angel card.  But that was after I picked up both the "Joy" and "Intention" cards.

My little epiphany came with a wallop...I'm the common denominator here. It's not a child's fault they're acting out, it's always some new stress they're processing that comes out sideways. My reactions are my own. They, we all as babies, arrive here perfectly equipped to have a beautiful life, and then they encounter US.

At this moment there is a lot rumbling around inwardly. Guilt about all my lack of parenting skill, my perceived lack of love. Sadness that they didn't choose better people to be their parents.  Compassion for their little souls stuck with me, I who barely have any idea what I'm doing.  More sadness for all the other little souls in bodies possibly in situations that are much worse off than ours.

A reminder pops up, that every one of us, every single one, is exactly where they are supposed to be at any given moment.  Every single action, reaction, re-reaction, and consequence is exactly what it is supposed to be....because I know that no thing happens in this world (or any other) by mistake.  God doesn't make mistakes.  But we do.  My thought life has been fraught with self-loathing only a perfectionist would understand, and it runs so very deep.  It's hard to admit, but as I name the difficulties I have with my children, I'm thickening the idea into our shared experience.  I.e. discussing how 3 year olds are particularly difficult, only makes it more true.

Knowing that God doesn't make mistakes, does not make it any easier though, grasping at imagined perfection causes suffering.

Then there comes a feeling of calm and bliss, and sadness. I've poured myself into this job, I'm in the thick of raising these little people into reasonably functioning young adults...sometimes I've so much love I might burst or melt down molecular-ly.

As an exercise for class I'm suppose to awake with activation of I AM, but in the form of I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN, which is a semantic tool to activate memory from whence we all came. Because, in the Light of Creation there is no want, no lack, no ego suffering, there is only Love, Peace, Joy.

So, I wake this morning thoughtfully creating my "I Have Always Been..." statements.

I have always been Loving

I have always been Joyous

I have always been Peaceful

I have always been Compassionate

I have always been Empathetic---and I stopped.

Have I?

I'm reminded then of an article I read, the pediatrician that believes now that Cry It Out method damages parts of the brain that create connective empathy.

My mom would brag about how I was a Dr. Spock baby, and at the time it was the "go to" child care book, and he was a definite "cry it out" proponent.  I'm theorizing that my handicapped empathetic response (and sympathetic response) is result of "best practices" for 1977.

So, I experience empathy shortage. How to cultivate it? Rather how do I access that limitless compassion, hence empathy and sympathy, that comes from the wellspring of our innate divinity?

How indeed, because I am well aware, we are only able to accept love at our conceived level of self worth.  And truly I have not much compassion for my self, most notably when I make mistakes as a parent.  Not little every day, oops-I-packed-the-wrong-lunch mistakes, but relationship-altering, possibly-damaging-to-emerging-young-selves mistakes.

Down the rabbit hole, though the roots are thick and tangled, there is Truth hidden there. I will re-mind it.

I made the phone calls I needed to, including a couple to friends. The eldest is reading downstairs, the middle and third are sleeping.  Left to myself I know there are a multitude of things to do in order that the house is cared for, workouts to get in, crafts backed up in my little room---feeling overwhelmed a bit I know I need to sit down and write.  It's January again.

I've decided I like January, it's quiet, simple. No major go-do-gift holidays, it's nice---mostly.

As I was losing my temper with the 3yo today, I watched my reaction occur. She didn't want to nap, and history shows that the resistance to said nap is directly proportional to the necessity of the nap. She was having her standard fit about it, and I didn't handle it as well as I have in past times.  When I don't catch her initial energetic down turn, it's difficult to get her to quiet time.

Maybe it's 'cause the baby wouldn't sleep either, maybe it's 'cause I didn't get to start the errands early as I planned, maybe it was the disappointment of not getting to the gym (baby had a random fever last night)...combination of many things.  I yelled, loudly, aggressively, with intent to frighten.

And I'm sick about it.

Though I handle it better than I did with the firstborn at three, in my heart I know I can act better.

Random lamentation, caterwauling is a trigger for me. There's a memory of emotion, feeling out of control and being taught, through fear and threats, feelings needed control at ALL cost.  Slapped, slapped again and again and again, into silence.

I observe this urge to hit them into silence, until they learn to shut up, because my anger is more important than your being---it's a memory of me as a little girl.  I've realized that my hurt from the incident(s?) is the basis of the trigger.  [I remember one incident clearly: my maternal grandmother threatened to slap me with her sandal unless I stopping crying right that instant...years later she, and my mom, deny that that could've every happened, causing me to question my memory, my reality.]

I don't hit my kids, I don't want to hit my kids. When I'm depleted emotionally, physically, spiritually....The Bully in me comes out.  This bully doesn't care about feelings, doesn't care about talking, doesn't care that others have needs. This bully only cares to hurt those around her because she's forgotten how to love her self.

{---dead pause---there's a baby crying, then the doorbell rings, and my process is brought to a standstill, to be continued another day, others' needs before my own...But I'll add this silly poem I wrote}

I want to be somebody else's mommy

someone grateful and kind

someone quiet and sweet

A ghost of a child than the real one I got

I want to be somebody else's mommy

where tears don't stain our cheeks

fusses and screams aren't part of my week

where I'm not stretched to my limit of personal growth

where frustration and anger are more a bygone joke

I want to be somebody else's mommy

you are too much like me

there's so much that needs change

I'm too too imperfect you see

You deserve better than me

And I forget to be grateful

for those everyday pains

Forget that others would gladly trade spaces

Yet some days, still,

I want to be somebody's else's mommy.

And after all that, at the end of this day or any other, all I really want to hear from anyone, is "Me, too."

The Other Half Lives

clap happy at the pick up line

It's been two weeks now.  Back and forth, to and from, lunches in and out, over and over and over.

I struggle to understand how people actually choose this method. To say the least, I'm stretched getting used to it all, at most I'd say it suuuuucks. I would much rather homeschool in my ideal vision than truck around town 2x daily ....which led me to the novel thought, "I wonder if we really were doing it for her?"  But decisions have been made, and there are carpooling options developing.  

There have been interesting improvements in her consideration of us, especially with Second Born.  She's more affectionate to me, which, sadly, is surprising as I've become so used to being at odds with her. Given her behavior toward me I would expect she'd be ecstatic to be free of me, but that's not the case.  She's at once forcefully clingy and almost desperately affectionate in fierce short bursts.  I'm mindful to be accepting of this and gently responsive to her.  

I feel crappy that it doesn't seem to come naturally to me in my relationship to her, I don't understand this trend and am consciously attempting to heal and release it.  I could surmise it is an inherited pattern, and I'm unwittingly re-creating my childhood family dynamic as it's the only one I'm accustomed to act within.

It's difficult knowing that I (some "we," as in he too) am 49-51% the cause of her behaviors, there has to be a balance between taking total responsibility and understanding that the other half(ish) is simply in her nature. I can't tell which on a moment to moment basis, and when I've tried to keep track it drives me insane as I trend toward "it's-all-my-fault and I'm-a-sh*tty-mom".

My self-loathing knows no bounds.  Parenting an other while RE-parenting one's self is a formidable, strenuous challenge.  Some facets of this personal mirror only refract long after the fact, compounding frustration and confusion for me.

The best I can do is remain of service in love to my family, with lots of meditation, prayer, and support I know this is possible.  I helped create them, so The Divine must be challenging me to learn from them.  Do the next right thing, just keep moving forward.

Lately I'm mostly learning surrender and acceptance, or acceptance and surrender.  I hate that our lovely idyllic plan didn't pan out.  I hate that poor Miss Monkey has imperfect parents that have made so many changes in her short life it's become difficult for her to process properly.  I'm tellin' you: First-borns get the crap-end of the stick with parents that barely know what-the-frack they're doing.  

I will really enjoy one full year (minimum) with just plain life happening, no births, no deaths, no moves, and no bankruptcies/tax problems.  Come to think of it, I think she's only had one full year without major change, it was at the northern suburb house, which may explain why she has such nostalgic attachment to that place.

So, I learn. So, it goes. Gratitude, I suppose.

School to School

I am an imperfect mother.

I'm guilt ridden with totally losing my temper the morning after my last post.  At first the morning started just as the other mornings of the week, with The Firstborn in a terrible state of irritation, slamming doors, throwing things, hurling verbal insults, treating us terribly in her agitation.  And a line was crossed.  

The discussions about schooling her had already begun.  The appointments were already on the calendar, the paper work already begun.  But nothing happens without some undefined Divine Ultimate Purpose, I struggle with the guilt of my behavior regardless.

And so here we are.  My Miss Monkey started at her Waldorf (inspired) charter school today.  I was a hot mess of emotion all day.  Sending my Little Girl off into a class room with many other kids, and one Really Great Teacher---that, truly a serendipitous connection.  At this moment, I'm wondering how people do this same thing over and over again every single day.  I am wading into the fray.

I'm in mourning for our loss of freedom, though I'm grateful we've the freedom to choose what kind of school she attends.  What time it would appear I gained has been supplanted with drive time and pick-up/drop-off lines...I think it's actually a loss.

I wince inwardly every time I see the curriculum around the house.  Every time I look at my calendar with the neat-o things we were planning to attend, it pains me.  I love the Enki curriculum, and I had high hopes and plans for our year together.

I feel like a failure on so many levels, if I let it get too low I feel nauseous.

Some recent observations:

• A leader cannot exercise her leadership skills, learn to work with others, when she's the only one in the room besides the teacher (if we totally let her run the show I'm certain she would in true dictator fashion)
• It's near impossible to teach selfless, unity, and oneness with human community without a community to work within (not one 2nd grade Enki homeschooler in the area??)
• it's not supposed to be so difficult, I'm aware that when things are right, everything falls into place (the very fact that there are so many Mile Hi'ers in her class is part'n' parcel to the rightness)
• unacceptable behavior is unacceptable no matter who it's coming from
• when asking for help, and the answer is undeniably clear, it would be an affront to divine nature to ignore such a gift no matter how uncomfortable the change may be

It's late, I'm sleepy, and sad, and scared, and anxious, and pensive....and reaching yet another, new level of acceptance and surrendering my will.

2nd grade, second First Day of School

We're doing something wrong, or by wrong I mean not enough of some thing that would support this little girl. 

And I'm at a loss.  I feel depleted and wonder if I've failed her some how, effed up the groundwork in her early years to have created these problems myself.  49-51% nurture v. nature on any given day, or at any given moment.  

When she and I do connect it's with a weird oppositional intensity that I don't really like participating with, and so recently have made progress at not participating.  But then I'm challenged redefining our connection 'cause I barely know what it should look and feel like. Firstborns really get the crap end of the stick, no?

While our lessons are thus far moving easily, it's only been a week, I suspect it's quite possibly solely because once she's completed it she gets to move on to whatever she likes, and lately I'm worthless in enforcing natural consequences much much later---and she knows I'm impotent as far as consequences.  Other than keeping her in indefinitely (punishing myself), I really have none.  I'm certainly not about to start beating her into submission.

I'm weary of being her target for insults and whatever she wants to physically hurl at me (yesterday it was a shredded tortilla, it's been a turtle, a book, anything within reach and within her momentarily limited reason). I really dislike hate her behavior, and feel that whatever consequences do crop up aren't enough 'cause the behaviors only seem to have patterned out.  There's little to no respect of my simple requests, and she'll effectively ignore me unless there's something in it for her.

So, is there something amiss with her functionality?  we wouldn't know as we've never had her assessed by  trained professionals.  This is a big concern if she's in a federally funded school, I don't want her intensity and big energy mistaken for some affliction-of-the-moment.  And I certainly don't want these attributes "educated" out of her.

I know I've got rose colored lenses on what we could  do with homeschooling, how rainbow mermaids, starry unicorns, and magical butterflies simply flock to our lovely soft-glowing house where gnomes and fairies reside and we leap and dance through a garden of mystical wildflowers....ppffffttt.

I peruse the possibilities, the questions and answers on the Enki support page. All the available information and I'm overwhelmed, feeling that I can't give her enough to fully support her development at this stage.  My energies are too divided.  I feel like if I'm struggling then I must be doing it wrong, it shouldn't be so emotionally draining.  It feels to me that with her behaviors she's asking for more.  More of what though?

It is possible that my discomfort is due to some inward shift, or combination of shifts hormonal (hair falling out) and otherwise.  I'm again at a loss as to how to sort my self out lacking time and solitude required.

Some kids go in and out of school, home schooling off and on as their needs change. It's not really fair to her siblings as she dominates time and energy, keeping us all guessing at what her next freak-out will be.  It's exhausting and we, I, need to widen the circle, get more support.

We're meeting with our L&L guru and Reverend this week. The only school I'd consider sending her into has an opening in 2nd grade classroom, and it's the only opening they have (local Waldorf charter).

I refuse to spend time in "what if" zone, it's a waste of precious resources, not to mention useless and pointless.  

In tears, I pray to listen, pray to hear, and pray for guidance.

Rainbow days

After a storm there are rainbows. I had several phone calls and a

surprise visit from The Man, I took small actions toward
mitigating the chaos, and started to feel better. That momentum built
a good finish to the day and into the next. Amazing how prayer works, even simply in the asking for help there is peace.
There were no giant altercations betwixt the girls, the baby was
typical happy baby, and I got some more done with the house. I forget that effectively we just moved in. Moving, remodeling, requires patience of process.

Grateful for the dojo as an added accountability for The Firstborn and her behavior.

Grateful on the way home this evening we chased a rainbow. F was so excited trying to figure out how to reach the end of that rainbow, I thoroughly enjoyed discussing strategy with her, negotiating where we should turn or of it was fading.

 Grateful for puzzle time with the Second born and soccer time with her sister, grateful for my ability to feed my baby and share my milk, most of all grateful for the abundance we love and live in.

Truly, Life is good, ALL The Time.

When simplifying is simply overwhelming

I can't get up, he's been Really Fussy yesterday and today. 

I'm going to try to move in a moment, cause the prospect of spending another day staring at chaos only adds to my weariness.

Its all so overwhelming, I've asked for help, and I'm going to start by doing a little, not a lot. Luck and faith on my side I hope.

When it's overwhelming....

Ask. For. Help.

Sibling jealousy

Who would want to harm this sweet baby?

Well, She would. ---->

I've stepped away briefly to grab clothing or my phone, and she's pushed the limits--especially mine.  Its hard to rein in a mama-bear reaction hearing an infant scream, even if it's focused on another of my own children. 

One morning i caught her BANGING her sister's baby doll on the kitchen table.  She is apparently jealous and expresses herself, "I'm feeling sad/mad about the baby" or "i don't WANT the baby on your lap/nursing!". 

We need to edit in some extra anger outlets it seems (into my subroutines as well?).  She colored an Angry Picture yesterday after the most recent incident. Doesn't help me feel any more confident abut leaving her with him even if he's in the crib, even if its for an instant.  "Ah, mi. Patience!" Cries the mother.

This is just one day, one of many that have passed and that will come.  This particular day we're lucky to survive. On another day all will be most evidently well with all facets, giggles will abound and happiness doesn't disguise itself with challenges. 

Feeling pretty weary at the moment. Breathe,  pray, repeat.

Birth in the Park

At a very large, very crowded urban park recently, pickin' up on the neighboring mommy blanket, I chatted friendly with a couple of other crunchy mamas.  A bit later I was slightly agape watching her 2 year old strip down nude and birth her baby doll.

Yes, read it again.  Mama encouraged her daughter through the doll-birthing process, "that's right, push the baby out" and "you're such a good mommy."

It took me almost a week to process the feelings that came up with this experience.

The first thing that happened, Monk-A-Doodle, my token lovin'-naked-life-child, came to ask "it's okay to be naked outside?" 

Carefully I said, "yes, it is okay to be naked outside. Though, sweetheart," surveying the expanse, "I'm not comfortable as this park is so big, and so busy right now, so just keep your swimsuit on, okay?"  This child is so very tactile in her soothing and cuddling, I also couldn't be sure what she'd do.  

To be socially responsible I've learned to take others' comfort level into account.  (Incidentally if we had and expanse of private land, there'd definitely be some instance of naked baby butts outside.  Butt then there's this option.)  I guess I've become somewhat a prude in my maturing mommy-hood years, or maybe it's because I've little girls and I'm too aware of over-sexualization of young girls in our society.

As for the mock birth the little girl played out, it's probably a realistic throwback to tribal days when all the women and girls were involved on some level to aid a woman giving birth.  It actually caused me to think I might've taken a different tack with F, but the way things occur in this era---I answer the questions that come up in an honest succinct manner, careful not to over-answer (this book is great).  Introducing life experience subject matter like birth and nursing makes sense, even if they mayn't have a conscious memory of the pretending, it would hopefully match their intuitive nature later on, making the whole experience less frightening.  

Maybe that momma was a doula or a midwife and it's part of their daily life experience, it brought up interesting thought process for me.  In a follow-up conversation a dear friend helped with a final aspect I had been struggling with but hadn't been able to put to words.  It was the public nature of the display.  Birth, like death I think, is an intensely private experience.  We invite only trusted people and family into that experience, and typically carefully choose our location for focus and comfort. The very public nature of that particular park, well, it was a shock to my system.

I'm beginning to love all manner of challenging experiences.  Life is good, all the time!

my babies nursing their baby dolls

Sweet grunts and squeaks, a fluffle-snort like a foal, chuffs and complaints, man-burps and butt noises, latch-snmacking while nursing, shrill squ-whistles on the inhale when suffering injustices of baby hood...this boy is noisey.  His voice is beginning to change into a baby cry from the newborn's signature lament, and it sounds a lot like E's tone and timber.  His choking and coughing at my let-down reflex, and his simple existent noisey-ness reminiscent of F.  But he is his own.  I know there are similarities, there should be, they are siblings.  But he is his a new unique instance.  

As a sleepy, sleepy baby, he takes a good long time grunting, stretching, and fluffling before he's fully awake.  Something I've had to ask the girls to "please, oh, please, do NOT disturb your brother until he's really awake!"  He's getting used to the crib by degrees, and I do enjoy a few hours sleeping 'alone'.  Co-sleeping has great advantages regards to bonding and easy access breastfeeding, I attribute his stellar weight gain partly to the co-sleeping.  What Mama would refuse opportunity to gaze at sleeping newborn? cuddled up and cozy? None, I say.  Since I heard a comic quip that babies don't sleep, I'm gaining new meaning for "sleep like a baby." It's that best sleep, the warm, safe, and loved sleep. Sleep that we all cherish and should be more sacred I think.  

A couple of weeks ago in his eyes there was fleeting vague recognition of his existence here, a brief connection when I looked into these deep blues.  Now, such a short time later, he's truly connecting with us.  Giving sweet new smiles by turn, and coo-ing in that magical new baby tone.

He's a standard issue miracle.  I'm so blessed to have three of these, and so, so grateful.

one was already awake

3 AM

Three o'clock in the morning, or thereabouts.  Just finished a double-nursing/double-diaper-change session, and I'm left wide awake and thinking.

It's these times in the dark quiet listening to breathing noises that I've blog ideas rattling around my mind.  I might pray some, meditate, last night, though, I had to get up and put ideas down on paper so as not to forget them by morning.

There are three now, three people we created out of irreducibly complex cells...well we, and The Divine.  Interesting that we can scientifically describe all the processes, and yet we cannot really define HOW it works.

Some questions and comments lately as I'm wearing baby around herding t'other two:

How old is your baby?  1.5 months 

Wow, you're brave!

Really? I guess I don't consider myself especially courageous doing simply what needs to be done. Besides, if we tried to stay in until there was some comfort level, we might end up at such odds it'd be tragically comical.  And it's rather a lack of options.  Though mostly I simply chuckle and answer, "May be."

Is he a good baby? (mostly from the elder crew)

Well, now, ALL babies are good.  If you mean is he a good sleeper, then yes, mostly.  In regards to elders, I've also had most interesting conversations about circumcision especially with older ladies.

Is it different having a boy?

Not, really.  Its different equipment to work around, I've been pee'd on a bit here and there. I used to say it often, but now I've proof: babies are pretty androgynous.  It's how we treat them that matters regarding sex/gender.

How is it with Three?  Is it hard?

Not as challenging as going from 1 to 2.  We've switched to zone coverage instead of man-to-man (though I kinda feel like I've been doing zone coverage since E was born). Generally speaking the two are entertaining each other while I'm with the baby.  Or they're fighting and I've had them confined to quarters, hands-to-themselves-stay-on-your-bed, then I do my level best to ignore whatever I over hear. ("Sounds like you're having a problem, let me know if you need some options to work it out!"  Ultimately life is only as hard as we make it.  And my children are not inconvenient or a problem, they are my life's main work.  They are blessings.

Love only grows, especially when it's allowed to.  For myself it's actually easier now to notice and comment on positives with the girls---my conscious being present has enhanced.  It may be that my time at a premium has forced me into a more practical place with prioritizing on all levels.  I'm extremely grateful not to live in a constant state of dramatic enactment of "OMG there are THREE."  Just keep moving forward, willingly and joyfully doing the next right thing...and some days a whole lot of prayer and mindfulness practice!

Good nights and interesting nights.  Last night was interesting.  Today we are all tired, and so on emotional ragged edges.

I get up and in the quiet breakfast moments while baby is still sleeping and kids are eating, I have a great idea to post here.

THEN while 'puter is open I skype my mom, clear my inbox, check the calendar.  Baby is awake and so begins the diaper-nurse-nurse-diaper-play/sleep pattern.

Someone bigger has a fit 'cause her cardboard project isn't working out exactly that way she wanted.

Then the beds need to be made prompting a fit from the smaller one.

Like I said, the raggedy emotional edges this morning from sleep lacking in the past few long summer days, topped off by last night's severe storm warning and baby brother fuss-fuss-fussing nigh on 2 hours.

It'll be an interesting day....and whatever creative inspiration I had, flitted out the window with the daily operation.  *BIG sigh*

So it goes. All is well when I remember....

A Good Day

Morning, of blueberry muffins, decaf & juice.
Making a lazy summer day. Some sewing, some weeding, little sweeping, praying and talking.
Littles' creative juices flowing.

Lunch and bit of laundry.

More creativity and a Substantial Mess.

"I only take kids to gymnastics that pick up after themselves."
Leading to "pick up everything you want to keep in the next 45 minutes".
Dinner is ready and on the table "for the next 25 minutes."

Oh the lament and tragedy.  I felt really sad to pick up all the stuff they'd worked so diligently on, and their new owl backpacks just received this weekend.  Empathy in full effect.  I felt kinda mean, but knew I had to follow through with my word.  There were tears and hugs for The Second Born, and flashes of quasi-half-hearted anger from The Eldest....
Eventually when it all calmed down, and tummies were filled, we migrated to the patio where a spontaneous stage show was happening courtesy Miss Monkey and slapstick comedienne Monk-a-doodle.

Papa comes home, there's wrastlin' and tag, giggles and squeals galore, winding slowly down to
bed.

All is well.  Life is good, ALL the time.

Sweep Training

Just because I do things a certain way doesn't mean others should do it that way as well.

That said, in my house I have become accustom to house work done in a most efficient manner, and such that it's become an art, my only issue is the timing.  I can even say I enjoy it in The Flow of the household as I've surrendered to the Reality that it never, never, ever, ends.  I care about it enough that I want it done well, and in a timely manner.  There's no guarantee that children will pick up on my methods, and The Eldest needed some broom training today.  

There are certain things that really need to be taught outright, "This way. This is how I do this.  This is why...."  Eventually, one might come up with a more reliable, even more efficient means of getting the job done, but for now, this is how it's done.  When I was a kid I think I was expected to simply know, gleaning the knowledge from the environment.  Developmentally reasonable expectations weren't considered, I learned quickly never to say, "I don't know" and even more so I learned never to be wrong.  It was too risky.

According to Miss Monkey, she had to sweep 3, THREE, times today!  OMG.  But really she swept 1 and one half times by my calculation.  These beautiful floors are easy to clean; however, with random construction/home improvements occurring and children about, it's impossible that they remain clean for more than a few hours at most---and that's with the proper daily/weekly timing.  There's a method to the floors; stay behind the broom (as in front of the mop), start on one side/corner moving to the other side/corner (like painting), wipe one's feet often on the broom to avoid tracking wayward dust, leave the dust pan in an accessible place to avoid trekking through dirt piles, sweep from one side of the house to t'other & top to bottom, preferably all fans are off & no wind sends dust bunnies fleeing.  That the gist of it.  Imparting that to the willful seven year old, eh, challenging.  Once upon a time, The Man remarked that I "sweep like a goddess", and imparting this to her got more than a passing interest.

I won't start with the laundry methods until she's really truly interested in helping.  Maybe we'll start with Baby laundry, she's such a baby hawk of late it's sometimes hard to keep her in check.

My super power

Besides super hearing, eyes in the back of my head, and ubermama-6th sense...I make milk.  Mega-milk too, since Baby Boy gained average 2 oz. a day since birth. Feelin' pretty superpowered. : )  

Such A day...

...Was yesterday, difficult to the max, and although slightly ill, I
handled myself very well up until a belligerent eldest child made
terrible threats during her emotional drunk in the afternoon.
Grateful it passed, we reconciled, and talked about it, all is well
again. There's a pattern there, few and far between, but still a
pattern that can be avoided....praying guidance on How.

Today we awoke to snow. Another spring dowsing, and it continued all
day. After dropping The Younger of the Two at the CEC I was treated
to the final chapter of Houndsley & Catina while I enjoyed a cup of
tea. Then we had fun with our Morning Lesson and got thoroughly
involved with organizing all the previous work we've done. Quite
gratifying to see how far she's come and all the material we've
covered. She's yet to choose work for her final good book or binder,
and I'm excited to see what she chooses.

Whipped up a killer tomato soup, with grilled cheese of course,
followed by quiet time for all. Wiped some more walls down moved some
lighter objects around, and standard housework with some help from
small people amidst their caring for new baby stuffed bunnies.

Aside from maneuvering around The Belly---becoming quite the nuisance,
I'm attempting to remain present and enjoy this, The Last One---An
utterly enjoyable day.

I am so grateful, I am so blessed.

Just keep moving forward.  Just for Today I have a plan, and if it doesn't go exactly the direction I intend I know my Higher Power had something different in mind, and I'm (generally) okay with that.  : )

Yesterday, after Botanic Gardens, I spent my little free time getting the playroom packed up, closet cleared of everything but sewing (which I'm stalling as there are a couple of projects I need to complete).  Amazingly, I was able to make dinner at the same time, all while wrangling children to help rather than hinder the packing process. (I made a rule, "once it's in a box, it does not come out!")  And let's not forget I'm 30 weeks pregnant.

Incredibly insane the skill level of toy-mixing with these small children!   A giant game of memory played in the space of a couple of hours.  I didn't want to box anything that wasn't whole. Puzzle pieces had to be found, parts had to be bagged, all the kitchen play/food had to be located, as did the Magna-Tiles, and SuperStructs (great use of reusable grocery sacks not in rotation)....which meant for a day they were all sitting idle as the pieces could be located among the discarded random bits of paper/felt/trashtoys/crayons/markers/small-sparkly-whatnots that inevitably surfaced.  I'm grateful I thinned it all out months ago after realizing they couldn't keep it tidy---there was just too much, and believe me, we don't have nearly as much as some houses I've witnessed.

A short note on simplicity:

I've said before I appreciate simplicity over batteries, and quality over quantity.  When considering a toy purchase I'm careful.  Is it a naturally sensory rich item?  Are these pieces they'll keep track of? that I won't mind stepping on or finding in my shoe/kitchen drawer/toilet?  How disposable are those pieces should I have a conniption about the mess?  : )  How many different ways it could be used creatively?  If I can think of 3 or 5, I know the kids will think of a dozen more.  When we unpack I'll look through all the toys again with a ruthless eye.  Books are more challenging for me, as I am a bibliophile, I do enjoy having a library.  When I thinned out the toys I thinned out the books as well.  Simplifying selection to one cubby containing books with messages The Man and I believe need strong reinforcement.  Total book volume will get a ruthless revamp as well, and happiest day will be that of the garage sale for charity of choice.  I do not know what to do with books that have been written, drawn, scribbled in though.

The House.  Well the house is a sweet little 60's ranch on a block between a park (yay!) and an institutional grade school (meh).  In a neighborhood we believe will begin to flip nicely based on the posh new development less than a mile away.  We posted our flier, had a few calls, then Mrs D emailed info on her place she's been renting out since the 80's.  She'd already given vacate notice to her tenant before seeing our flier, and miraculously she usually never looks at the community board. Divine Synchronous!  We made a rent-with-option deal with her, signed, paid, made ready to remove carpet and do floors....everybody happy and excited!  

Then the tenant refused to move.  

Many have said, "What? can they do that?" Apparently, yes.  The tenant can claim notice to vacate never received and get lawyers involved, which is what happened.  Our move date has been backed up a few weeks, and we've been gifted the adventure of staying in another beneficent friend's basement, again!  Part of me asks, "how did this happen?"  But my higher vibration kicks in and I'm firm in faith that all is exactly as it should be, we're adventuring in Life again, and we are miraculously cared for.  

I am grateful!

Eye-spying poison dart frogs

After a lovely day at the playground, post-bath, post-nap, naked toddler in a towel, The First born looking stonily from her bed:
"Do you want to pick out your clothes?"
"No, I want Mama to pick out my clothes."
"Okay, how about these (pants & tee)?"
"NO! I don' want those!!"
"Okay, what would you like?"
"I want Mama to pick out my clothes."
"All right, E, this is was Mama has picked."
"NOooo!! I don' want those clothes."
"Well then, you pick them out," slowly beginning to see this fruitless conversation headed in a beyond belligerent direction.
"NOoooo! YOU pick them out!"
"I tried E, this is what I pick, you asked Mommy to choose for you, this is what I choose."
"NOOO!!"
"Okay, I love you, I tried to choose for you, now you can do it yourself."
"NOOOOO!!!  MAMA DON' LEAVE!!" as if there are rabid angry wolves in her room....which I have to admit it's a decent comparison as F was already confined to bedroom after losing her mind when I asked if she'd prefer a bath or shower.

I didn't want to leave her to the wolves, but I didn't have much choice. After toying with me that she would get dressed, but indecision won out over the urge to escape the room, her caterwauling got the best of me, I had to leave.
After 30 minutes or so, both of them screaming at me when I offered them an apple (figuring blood sugar  might be the culprit), they both eventually made it out of the room.  E needs a hug, and F is fighting her way through picking up the play room.  The burgers are done, and miracles of miracles we all survived and I'm still here.

I need dark chocolate, or a d*mn beer.